Direction
by AeonFrodo
Summary: After the UR-1 Incident, Athena desired to save Simon. But over the next three years she had lost all direction, until a particular event changed her life. [Contains major Dual Destinies spoilers]
1. Chapter 1: Lost

I wrote this fic because I wanted to explore Athena's past, in particular, the seven years between the UR-1 Incident and the beginning of Dual Destinies (Case 2). In the DLC episode, Athena mentions that Phoenix 'helps her out of a difficult jam' and that's how she first met him in Europe. This fic is based on those events.

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**Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all recognisable characters belong to Capcom.**

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**Direction**

**Chapter 1: Lost**

I had no idea what part of town I was in. But it was pouring with rain and I had to find shelter. I zipped up my jacket over my hoodie and sprinted along the sidewalk. I was grateful that the street lights were on, illuminating my path in the darkness.

Thankfully, I soon noticed a place that appeared run down and abandoned. It was the best I could make out of this situation. The rain was starting to get heavier and I could catch a cold if I stayed out any longer. I jogged up to the entrance and twisted the knob, hearing the door click open. I was relieved and just let myself inside.

Shutting the door behind me, I took off my wet jacket and pulled down my hood, allowing my reddish orange hair to pop free. I could barely see anything in the darkness, except there was a counter to my right, with a till on top of it.

Then it hit me. Was I in a shop? Was I not supposed to be in here? Well, it was too late now, I'm already inside. Plus the rain was beginning to pelt the asphalt. It would be crazy to search for another building to take cover in.

I decided I better get comfortable, so I checked out the area behind the counter. I lifted the flap to access the space, and noticed a little corner I could sit and watch the rain droplets slide down the window. I placed my jacket on top of the counter, above my seat, straightening it so that the water oozing off it doesn't eventually fall off the counter and onto me.

Once that was done, I was able to sit down in my little corner and distract myself with the sounds of the environment around me. It was very therapeutic and I felt more relaxed knowing that I was safe inside.

Although, I was outside of the house and I really shouldn't let my guard down. I snuck out because I had a nightmare and needed to get some fresh air. Then it soon turned into an adventure to explore new areas of town I haven't been to. I mostly spend time at home or school, so seeing new places only happened every now and again. But at least it happened more often than the country of my birth, America.

I've lived in England for almost three years now since that incident, but yet I felt like I know the country more than America. Then again, I was practically confined to three places there. The weather here though, could use an improvement. It was supposed to be summer here, yet there have been a lot of downpours this week alone.

After the rain passes, I planned to head home. It was very late and I should be in bed. I also don't want my uncle and aunt to discover that I'm not in my bedroom if they so happen to check it in the morning.

But part of me was questioning the thought of going back home. All I was doing was spending time with relatives I never knew of before I moved here and getting genius level grades at school. It felt like nothing was getting me closer to my goal, to prove Simon innocent of murdering my mother. And if he was a death row prisoner, I don't want to waste my time doing things that wouldn't contribute to that goal.

I shouldn't have these thoughts, especially in an unknown place. I just need a distraction. Something to keep me preoccupied until the rain stopped. I reached into my hoodie and quickly found the familiar shape of my electronic necklace, Widget. I pulled it out, noticing that its face was neutral. It was good to know since it reads my feelings, especially when I'm unsure what I would be feeling in certain situations.

Over the last year, I discovered that Widget was capable of being able to read another person's feelings too, provided that I change its mode and use my unique glove to activate it. Although, there was nobody around to use the new mode on.

But there was nothing better to do, and it'll keep my mind off my nightmares. I raised my right hand, the one wearing the special glove, and drew a circle with two of my fingers. Widget projected a holographic screen before me, loading up the program. Hopefully with some tinkering I could find something new on Widget.

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After an hour, the rain had stopped. I was relieved, glad I wouldn't spend the night here. I shut off Widget with a click of my fingers and tucked the device back into my hoodie. I had to head home right away. I've been out for too long and it was incredibly late.

I leapt to my feet, grabbing my jacket and putting it on while rushing out of the place. I pulled the hood over my head, before opening the door to the cold outside air. The puddles on the road reflected the light of the street lamps, making it obvious that the rain made any surface a bit more slippery. Still, I should be able to sprint. The faster I get home the sooner I could get back to sleep.

I began running in the direction I came from. It was best to retrace my steps back home, so I don't get even more lost. I was running a little bit slower than what I was capable of. It was mainly to conserve energy so I could cover as much distance as I could without getting exhausted too quickly. Hopefully, I would arrive back home in half an hour and sneak into my bedroom without my family noticing I was gone.

"Freeze!"

My heart began racing. Who else was there out in the dead of the night? I slowed up and turned my head.

_Oh crap._

"Put your hands behind your head!"

I sighed. I had no choice. I was athletic, but I couldn't possibly outrun a policeman. I soon came to a complete stop, doing as the cop instructed me to do. The palms of my hands were covering my ears and my fingers reached behind my head.

I could hear the officer's footsteps getting louder, but they had been slowed. He could see that I had surrendered and was in no rush to approach me. I wish I wasn't here. I felt so uncomfortable. But there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

The officer came into my line of vision. I felt tiny compared to him, which didn't help my growing anxiety over the situation. Then he began patting me down. Part of me was grateful that he was in front of me, so I could see where he put his hands. The other part was still recovering from the shock of being stopped by a policeman.

He quickly finished his pat down of my body, finding nothing suspicious. The cop then moved behind me, and that sent a shiver down my spine. Was he seriously going to arrest me? And on what grounds? My fingers clenched on the back my hood tightly, scared of what could possibly happen in the next couple of seconds.

My fears were confirmed. The cop grabbed one of my wrists, put it behind my back and slapped the cuffs on.

While dealing with my other hand, he stated, "You're under arrest on the suspicion of breaking and entering and attempting to shoplift. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention something when questioned which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

I almost felt the cuffs digging into my skin once he finished his sentence. Maybe I deserved it for sneaking out. I was about to say something, until I remembered that my words meant nothing.

The law wouldn't listen to me when I tried to defend Simon. Why should they listen to me now? Why should they listen to somebody who can't give a clear and concise explanation? Why should they listen to a useless teenager? Nothing I say would make a difference.

The policeman then pulled down my hood, exposing my face. I couldn't let him see what I was really feeling. My sadness and fear was bubbling up inside, almost at breaking point. I felt so vulnerable.

"We're heading to the car. Don't try anything funny."

I nodded as he placed his hand at the centre of my back, escorting me to his parked patrol car. What was going to happen to me? Was I heading straight to prison? Would a criminal record prevent me from returning to America to save Simon?

No matter how I put it, there was no light at the end of the tunnel.


	2. Chapter 2: Sparks

**Direction**

**Chapter 2: Sparks**

For the past hour, the police had been demanding answers from me. Every now and then when I glanced up from rubbing my left wrist, I see an officer frustrated that I wasn't uttering a word to him. I didn't need to hear his voice to determine that fact. The loudness of it was more than enough information.

I had the right to remain silent, so I exercised that right around these officers. And it wasn't because I was purposely avoiding answering the questions. The cops who entered the room would ask me along the lines of 'Why did you do the crime?' It was a question I couldn't answer, because as far as I was concerned, I didn't commit a crime. That and I knew they wouldn't believe me if I told them I just wanted shelter from the rain.

I looked down at my left wrist again. The arresting officer did put the cuffs on me too tightly. Fortunately because my glove did cover my right wrist, it didn't sting as strongly as my left wrist. The pain was on the forefront of my mind, distracting me from the officer across the table.

The officer soon gave up questioning me. I heard him pull the chair back and exit the room. I sat up in my seat, looking around the room. There were no windows, and there was only one exit. In the top corner of the room, there was a security camera that was staring me back.

I placed my hands on the table, taking the opportunity to compare my wrists. There were still marks on both of my wrists, but my right wrist had considerably less markings than my left. I couldn't imagine how much pain I would be in if both my wrists were exposed.

The door suddenly creaked open, and I looked up to see a man dressed differently than the officers that entered before him. He wore a cream trench coat over his white business shirt and black slacks. His tie was red with thin white stripes running diagonally and his glasses had a thin frame. He had short brown curly hair and brown eyes. He was quite tall and looked around his late thirties or early forties. But for some reason I felt an aura of gentleness around him, as if he didn't hold any resentment against me.

He took off his trench coat and placed it on the back of the seat opposite me. He then sat down on the seat, locking his hands together in front of me.

The man smiled and said, "Hello. I'm Detective Clive Lockwood. What's your name?"

I was taken aback by the question. I was expecting him to be as rude as the officers, but he doesn't seem that bad. From his tone of voice, he doesn't sound like he would do anything to harm me.

Feeling safe, I responded, "Athena Cykes."

His brow furrowed slightly. I guess he thought my name was unusual. After all, my first name was a goddess' name, and my last name was just plain weird.

The detective then asked his next question, "Athena, how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

The detective reached down to his pocket and pulled out a notepad and pen. He began dotting down the little information that I told him.

Soon, he glanced up and enquired, "Athena, why were you at the store?"

I held my breath. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the detective asking me that question. If I could help it, I wanted to avoid talking about my past. All it did was trigger bad memories. Then again, the nightmare I had wasn't the entire reason why I travelled there.

"It was raining outside, and I had to find some place to stay inside. The door was open, so I let myself in and waited until the rain stopped," I answered.

As the detective acknowledged my statement and wrote it down, I heard him mutter, "I knew that was the case."

I grabbed my left wrist as a response. What does he mean by that? I grew nervous thinking of the possibilities. Did he lead me to reveal some information that could indict me? I averted my eyes from him, betrayed and afraid of what could become of me.

"Athena, what's the matter?"

I refused to answer him, staring at the blank wall. I couldn't trust him. He was going to be the one that would send me to jail, like the other policemen wanted. I just wished someone would hear me out on this. That this was a giant misunderstanding!

"Athena! I understand this is very hard on you. But if I don't get enough information from you, I don't stand a chance to prove you innocent."

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. My heart was telling me not to trust him, that he'll be the same as the other branches of the law. That he wouldn't listen to me unless the truth suits him. That 'truth' being that I would get convicted of a crime and he would get paid handsomely for his service. But my ears were giving me a different story. He sounded... compassionate, determined, but most importantly, honest.

The detective wasn't lying about his intentions, I knew that for sure. Although, I found it hard to trust somebody so deeply involved in the law. Maybe it was time to let my guard down, seeing that there was a person who genuinely cared about me and would listen to me.

I gazed into his eyes and stated, "Sorry. I find it difficult to trust people. But you seem like somebody I can trust."

Detective Lockwood gave me a small smile, replying, "I understand. You must have been through a lot."

I gave a slight nod to the detective. That part was true, as much as I didn't want to admit it to him. I grasped the collar of my jacket, letting out all my nervous energy. If Detective Lockwood wanted to prove me innocent, I would probably have to reveal everything to him... including my past.

"Are you all right to speak now?"

"Yeah."

"I want to know why you went outside so late at night by your own. Did you have an argument with your parents?"

My body tensed up at the mention of my parents. I knew I would have to talk about them at some point. I even hated having them on my mind, because then I would think of the 'what ifs' and reflecting on how different my life would be if they were here.

"You did, didn't you?" the detective leaned forward slightly in his seat, anticipating more information.

"N-No," I stammered out, "They're both dead."

"Oh, my condolences," the detective apologised, "I should've been more aware that it was a sensitive topic."

I could see that the detective didn't mind stopping the conversation there, but I continued, "My Dad died in a car accident when I was three. I barely remember him."

Detective Lockwood appeared a little shocked that I did give more information about my dead parents. He hesitated before asking, "What about your mother?"

I took a deep breath, then stated, "My mother was murdered three years ago."

"You poor child," Detective Lockwood replied sympathetically.

"I had a nightmare about my Mum's murder and I couldn't get back to sleep. So I snuck out of the house and tried to distract myself from thinking about it. I'm not sure where I ended up, but then it started raining, so I went to the first place that was going to keep me dry. Which was that shop, but I thought it was an abandoned place, since I could open the door without a key."

I watched the detective write down what I told him. I felt strangely relieved, like I had gotten a huge burden off my chest talking about my parents' deaths. It was probably because he was the first person outside of my family that I could trust with that information about me.

It was my mother's death in particular that haunted me. I've had multiple nightmares about it, but on this night it was more traumatic. There was blood everywhere, like the previous nightmares. But there was a man dressed in Simon's garb, standing in the centre of the pool of blood. And I woke up upon seeing him. I seriously thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Simon wasn't my mother's murderer. He was too kind and he loved me and my mother. The emotions in his voice still echoed in my mind... and the court didn't listen to me when I told them. I watched helplessly as Simon was declared guilty, even though it was so clear to me that he was innocent.

"Athena, can you hear me?"

I shook my head, realising I was in my own little world away from reality. Although, I wasn't sure which place I would rather be in.

"Sorry. When I talk about it... I tend to drift off," I responded groggily.

"That's understandable. But I need to ask you one more thing about it," Detective Lockwood declared.

I was a bit puzzled. I told him everything he needed to know, right? There shouldn't be anything else that he should know. Or maybe I left out something that I didn't say and I thought I had said it.

"You said your mother was murdered three years ago, was the murderer Simon Blackquill?"

I felt something inside me snap.

"Simon didn't kill her! He's innocent!"

The detective was left dazed in his seat, clearly surprised that I exploded. I, on the other hand, felt very alive. Adrenaline was pumping through my body. My breathing was very audible. And I felt like I wanted to punch the detective in the face.

"That's all I needed to know. I won't say any more," Detective Lockwood replied defensively, "Take as much time to calm down if you need to. Let me know when you're ready for my next question."

True to his word, he waited for me to relax. He allowed me to collect my thoughts and centre myself. I felt my adrenaline rush slowly subside as I took each breath. I knew the detective didn't mean any harm by it, but I hated how Simon was listed as a murderer. I avoided thinking about what happened three years ago, otherwise I would never calm down. I just thought about how I knew I was innocent of the crimes I was accused of, and focused on answering the next question the kind detective had for me.

"Thank you, detective. I think I'm ready."

"Good. Athena, the officer that arrested you had noted that you wear a very unusual glove on your right hand at the time. I can see that you're still wearing it. But I'm wondering if you wear it often, and why do you wear it?"

Oh right, criminals wore gloves so they didn't leave their fingerprints at the scene of the crime. Although, my glove wasn't exactly the type that criminals would wear. My glove fully covered my thumb, index and middle fingers, but not my ring or my pinky fingers.

But compared to the other questions, this was pretty easy to answer. I chuckled, "I'll show you."

Before the detective could say another word, I revealed Widget from under my hoodie. I tapped the button near the top of the device, and drew a circle with my right index and middle fingers in front of it. A screen appeared between me and the detective, indicating Widget was booted up. I could see through the screen that the detective was astonished. I bet he'd never seen anything like this before.

"Wow. What is it?" The detective was bewildered, yet awestruck.

"This is Widget. It's a device I use when I'm bored and want to play a game," I explained, and raised my right hand, "You can only use it with this glove."

"How does this device entertain you?"

My lips formed a slight smile, as I input the commands to activate Widget's 'active' mode. It loaded the program almost instantaneously, and the screen before me changed. It was now dark, with four circles in each corner displaying different faces.

"Well, from a person's voice, it can show images of what the person is describing. But more importantly, it can show people's emotions from the tone of their voice. It only displays four basic emotions, but it's enough to cover a wide range of feelings a person would experience."

The detective leaned forward, wondering, "How do you play this game?"

"You say something... anything that comes to mind. And whatever emotions you are feeling, Widget will light the faces up on my screen, and show how strong they are. Then I'll try to guess why you're feeling that way in relation to what you said."

The detective leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, musing, "It sounds like fun. Um... I believe, with that device helping you observing emotions, you have a bright future ahead of you."

Widget immediately processed the majority of the detective's statement. I felt my ears prick at his statement though. Was that my imagination, or did I hear some discord? I guess I would find out soon as Widget displayed the image and emotions.

The picture popped up on screen, showing an older version of me, wearing a black gown and square hat on my head. I could see Widget in the picture emitting a bright green light on the screen, telling me the detective was happy. Hell, my older self was happy in the image. But then again why wouldn't I be? I was graduating.

However, it didn't seem like the detective felt entirely the same about it. The happy face in the top left corner lit up, but that was perfectly normal in relation to the statement. Although, it wasn't the only face that glowed. Widget also registered strong feelings of sadness and anger.

I was stunned. That's never happened before. Was Widget malfunctioning? No, I actually heard something unusual in the detective's voice too. So did that mean even though the emotions didn't match up with what he said, he still felt them? Was he hiding something from me? I was going to deviate from the rules of the game. I had to know why he was feeling that way.

"Detective Lockwood, Widget picked up that you were feeling happy, which is normal. However... it picked up other emotions that wouldn't make sense with what you're saying. It's never done that before, so I just wish to confirm it with you. If you don't mind me asking, are you hiding something from me?"

The detective seemed to be rendered speechless. His eyes were focused on the two glowing inconsistencies on my screen. Judging by his reaction, it was very likely he was trying to keep something from me. And I intended to get to the bottom of it.

"It's ok to tell me, detective. Let's start with why the sad marker reacted," I reassured.

Detective Lockwood placed his arms on the table, tapping the table before he disclosed, "Athena, I'm really worried about your future right now. You seem like a good child, yet the world is dead set against your success."

I bit my lip. That felt very true at this moment. I was arrested; I'm in a room of the police station where they interrogate criminals. Basically, the police saw me as a thief that deserves to pay for their crimes, even though I didn't commit any. The only person who could see me as innocent was the man sitting across from me.

I stared at the screen between me and the detective, seeing that Widget was updating the new information by itself. I was a bit shocked, but grateful that it was an automatic process. However, it didn't exactly show me the update. Instead, I was left on the first screen, viewing my older self. The only difference was that the sad marker wasn't flashing anymore.

I spotted two dots at the bottom of the screen, realising that I was on the first sentence of his statement to me. I quickly figured out that I simply had to touch and flick the screen to my left, and I could see the new statement and the image.

The picture had me with my arms across my chest, with people giving me glares, and policemen pointing at me. It was something I didn't want to see, but it matched with what the detective said. The emotion he was feeling also made sense; the detective was clearly feeling sorry for me.

As soon as I recovered from the sight, I thanked Detective Lockwood for his sympathy. The detective smiled back, but reminded me I shouldn't thank him yet.

I shifted in my seat, and flicked the screen to the right, back to the first statement. There was still that out of place emotion to deal with. The red angry icon needed attention badly. And I was going to get to the bottom of this.

"Why do you feel anger? And is it directed at any particular person?" I questioned.

Without hesitation, the detective answered, "Most of the police officers I spoke to told me that you were clearly guilty because you weren't answering them. I told them off, reminding them that you're a child and you probably were at the wrong place at the wrong time, which most likely is the case. I just wish they could see you as innocent until you are proved guilty or not guilty of the crimes you are accused of."

While I absorbed Detective Lockwood's words, Widget had already processed the new information and updated the statement. But I didn't want to see what the new update looked like. Was he the only person that believed I was innocent? Did all those policemen believe I was a thief? That didn't bode well for me.

I stared at the blank wall again. What the hell could I do to convince everybody that I didn't do it? I couldn't testify about it, they just wouldn't listen to me! All the police cared about was convicting everybody they arrested. They got Simon into prison, and now they've going to do the same thing to me. And there's nothing I could do about it.

I clicked my fingers. Widget in active mode wasn't going to help me. I put my arms on the table and buried my head into the darkness. I was a useless and unstable person that nobody would listen to!

_I only wanted somebody to hear me. _

_**Just this one time.**_

"Athena!"

That was Detective Lockwood. I lifted my head up slightly, realising my face felt hot. I must had been on the verge of crying. Then I felt a hand on my left shoulder. He must be right next to me.

"Athena, I'm going to prove you innocent. I know you didn't do anything wrong," Detective Lockwood consoled me, while rubbing my shoulder.

Somebody did listen to me. It was just in that moment I'd forgotten about the detective. He hung onto my every word, taking notes and even participating in my game. He genuinely cared about me, and he was going to try to prove me innocent.

I couldn't help but to return my thanks. I suddenly turned and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I felt him jump slightly, but he immediately hugged me back. I felt his arms tighten a little bit around my small body, reminding me of how Simon held me moments before his arrest.

It was all too much. I felt my tears welling up in my eyes, against my will. I didn't want to cry. The only time I wanted to cry was when it was all over. The detective eventually let go, and I felt relief throughout my entire body. I wiped my eyes with my left hand, not wanting the detective to see that I was on the verge of tears. I had to be strong.

"Your future shouldn't be altered by events out of your control again. The game you played with me is a sign that you have an aptitude for psychology. I believe whatever you do with that ability, you will be successful."

It was encouraging to hear something positive for a change. I was a smart kid when it came to psychology, but I worked very hard on my other subjects. This made me skip multiple grades in order to start my final year of high school by the time my summer holidays were over. Although, the problem was once I chose my major and minors for university, I would be at the point of no return to save Simon. I couldn't afford to make a mistake with my decision, especially if I wanted to free him from his conviction as fast as I possibly could.

"Anyway, before I investigate the scene, I have to let your legal guardians know you're here at the station and that you are going to court later today."

My body sunk. I really didn't want my uncle and aunt to know that I was out of the house at this time. Not to mention that I was arrested and going to court. But in this situation, I really had no choice. My aunt and uncle were going to find out one way or another.

Resigning to that thought, I gave the detective my aunt and uncle's names and their numbers. Detective Lockwood decided though it was best if he called them after he dealt with my arrangements. I was glad he went with that course of action, because I seriously did not want to hear their voices on the other side of the phone once they knew I was in trouble. Instead, the detective called up an officer he trusted to look after me while I was at the station. I was still under arrest, and I wasn't allowed to return home until I was proven innocent. Luckily, the officer was working tonight and was happy to keep an eye on me. If the detective could trust that officer, I believe I could too.

Detective Lockwood checked his watch, gasping, "It's already three! That's not good. We only have six hours until your case is presented in court."

I felt a lump form in my throat. Six hours was not a lot of time. I was amazed that my appearance in court was arranged so quickly. But it was less time for the detective to prove my innocence.

"You're going to be busy trying to find evidence that I'm innocent. Do you think it'll be enough time?" I asked, with a hint of concern in my voice.

"Well, I have to talk to the chief and your aunt and uncle before I begin investigating. But I believe I'll have enough time," Detective Lockwood responded confidently.

"Why do you have to speak with the chief?"

"He was the one that told me to interview you because the officers were unsuccessful. And he said if I was successful I would be the lead detective in this case. So I have to report back to him."

I acknowledged the detective, staring in some other random direction. My mind wandered off, thinking about the last time I was in court. The whole ordeal trying to testify in Simon's defence had me afraid of courtrooms. I remember people giving me strange looks and hearing them murmur about how insane I was to protect a murderer. But the feeling that stood out from that day was the fear I felt from being so helpless. I couldn't describe how much I hate feeling helpless. It was an emotion that was entirely situational, and there was no way of stopping it once it seeps into me. Then I feel my body tense up from the inside out, and my hands either grab my arms or I cover my ears. And that's when I'm rendered completely, and utterly helpless.

"Is something the matter, Athena? Widget just turned dark blue; does that mean you're sad?" I heard Detective Lockwood ask, breaking me out of my little world.

My breath stifled as I nodded. I completely forgot Widget was exposed and in passive mode, and its face indicated to others how I felt. So the detective could easily guess how I was feeling, although, he wasn't exactly right. But there was no use hiding it from him.

"I'm scared of the courtroom," I admitted, "It reminds me of... how helpless I was when Simon was on trial."

Detective Lockwood hummed, then checked his watch quickly. I thought for a moment he cared more about the officer entering the room so he could hand me off to him.

As soon as that thought entered my mind, he reassured me, "I know it's easier to say this, but while you're sitting as the defendant's seat, I want you to remember how brave you were answering my questions. You've done your part to help me, and once I get out of this room, I have to do everything I can to prove your innocence. It would be my fault if you are found guilty."

I looked back at the detective, with my lips curving into smile. He seemed to always know what to say to cheer me up, and it was realistic and not some method of getting my hopes too high up. He'd only known me for little more than an hour, but it was like... he was my father.

Unfortunately, that thought was interrupted by the officer entering the room, saluting the detective. He looked like he was in his late twenties, maybe in his early thirties. Again, if the detective could trust him, so could I.

"Ah, it's good to see you here so soon, Officer Petrie. I don't have a lot of time on my hands, so pay attention, I'm only going to say this once," Detective Lockwood warned.

Detective Lockwood quickly unloaded what he found out about me onto the poor officer, without revealing too much details of what I had been through. I was thankful that he cared about keeping my past private, but I don't think the same was going to happen in court. The officer seemed to have absorbed the information, and was confident he could look after me and even escort me to the courtroom. I felt relieved that one of the detective's trusted men was going to put as much effort taking care of me as Detective Lockwood did.

Detective Lockwood finally approached me and declared, "I will make sure you're found innocent Athena. You're clearly not guilty of the crimes you're accused of. While I do my job, you need as much rest as you can and try to relax as much as possible. Just listen to Officer Petrie and you'll be fine."

"Thank you for everything you've done so far," I began, "I think I can be brave in court, because you believe in me."

"Good girl," Detective Lockwood smiled, and reached for the door handle, "Right, I have to head off. Don't worry too much. I'll find the evidence that proves your innocence. Sleep well, Athena."

And with those last words, he left the room. I felt a strange sense of emptiness inside. Detective Lockwood skyrocketed my confidence, but now that he was gone; I felt it plummet back down.

Officer Petrie spoke awkwardly to me, but he did mean well by his words. I obeyed his orders, as he escorted me to my room for the night. While walking down that long hallway, it dawned on me that everyone was doing their absolute best to keep my hopes up. But I wasn't doing anything to contribute to that.

Then it hit me. I couldn't just rely on Detective Lockwood. I had to do my part too. I couldn't give up on myself. I had to believe I was innocent, and not just use Detective Lockwood's words to convince myself.

I remember the moment when I was arrested. I didn't protest. I didn't resist. I just resigned to my guilt, even though I didn't do anything wrong.

What kind of person had I become? Someone that loses meaning in their own life once conflict arose? Studying hard and getting excellent grades was simple. But making a decision on my future course for university was difficult.

I shouldn't back down after working so hard to get where I was in life. I was about to enter my final year of high school at fourteen, and by the time I enter university, I would be fifteen. I was three years ahead of my peers at my age. I should be proud of myself. Although, I wasn't going to be satisfied until I found a way to free Simon, fast. I had to find my direction before the point of no return. And when that time comes, I hoped I could make the right decision.

But first, I had to be proven innocent. Otherwise, a criminal record on my name was going to put everything to a halt.

_**From that day, I decided I couldn't stay in my shell any longer. I had to fight too. I promised myself that I had to be the strongest person I could be.**_


	3. Chapter 3: Burden of Proof

Sorry this took a little while to update! I've been a little busy with preparing for Christmas and other things, but I finally managed to churn this chapter out!

* * *

**Direction**

**Chapter 3: Burden of Proof**

Several hours later, a knock thundered throughout my room. I jolted awake, as the sound was so incredibly loud. I had to cover my ears so I could tolerate the noise.

"You have five minutes to get up!"

I groaned, but luckily the officer stopped banging on the door to my room. Maybe I should've told him that I had sensitive hearing before I went to sleep. I still felt groggy, and I needed more sleep. But court wasn't going to wait for me. Why did it had to start at nine in the morning?

I slid out of bed, and stretched my arms and legs to wake myself up. Officer Petrie opened the door after a couple of minutes. He didn't appear tired, but I guess he would be used to getting up a ridiculous hours because of his job.

That's when I noticed he had a bowl of cereal in his spare hand. He handed the bowl to me and told me I couldn't enter the courtroom on an empty stomach. I thanked the officer, and began eating my cereal. Officer Petrie smiled and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

As I was eating, I realised that I felt really confident about today's proceedings. I believed I was innocent, and I had a detective who would do anything in his power to prove my innocence. I found it strange because I was more edgy being a witness to my mother's murder three years ago than I was being the defendant accused of shoplifting.

The reason why that was the case was obvious. Unlike three years ago, I believe with a man like Detective Lockwood leading the investigation would search for the truth. And the result would be fair and right.

* * *

The nerves hit me the moment I entered the courtroom. The gallery surrounding the centre stage was members of the public who were curious to see my case. Everybody I glanced at was surprised to see a teenager being escorted by a police officer in court. I even saw some whispering to their companion, although I couldn't pick up what they were saying.

Officer Petrie showed me my seat, which I hastily sat down in. I breathed shallowly, looking for something to divert me from the surroundings. Once I touched my wrist, I quickly found the distraction I wanted. I slightly pulled up the left sleeve of my clothing, exposing my wrist. However, the area was coloured differently to the rest of my skin, and when I touched it I flinched in pain.

"The officer that arrested you put the cuffs on you too tight, didn't he?" Officer Petrie whispered, with a hint of concern.

I nodded, pulling my sleeve back down. I still felt a slight sting from the wool making contact with my bruised skin, but the pain was tolerable. I sighed, realising I had nothing to distract me anymore from my surroundings.

As I reclined in my chair, I spotted some visitors in the gallery that I didn't want to see. They were my aunt, uncle and my two older cousins. I knew they were here to support me, but I was worried if things didn't work out. If I was declared guilty, I couldn't imagine how much distress my remaining family members would experience. It was all the more reason to prove my innocence.

A moment later, the judge entered the courtroom, walking up to his podium. I felt Officer Petrie's hand at my back, grabbing my attention as he stood up. I noticed that everybody in the gallery was standing as well. It was like an unspoken rule that I was completely unaware of, or forgotten since the last time I was in court.

I stood up, getting a good view of how the defence and prosecution were appearing moments before the trial began. The prosecutor, on my left, organising his papers into neat piles on his desk was calm and relaxed. However, the lawyer on my right seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily, I wasn't depending entirely on him to prove my innocence.

The judge sat in his chair and slammed the gavel. My trial had begun, and everybody except the defence, prosecution and bailiffs sat back down. I did my best to ignore what was going on at the start, since the prosecution would give their opening statement and try to drive his misinformation down the judge's throat. Thinking of Detective Lockwood being on the witness stand, with the decisive piece of evidence to prove my innocence, was the only thing I looked forward to in the trial.

As I expected, my defence wasn't looking too flash with the prosecutor linking a few things of my involvement at the scene of the crime. He stated I broke into the building using a bobby pin to unlock the locked door, then placed my jacket away from the register to mislead people that I was trying to steal money. And somehow, I apparently saw the patrol car and attempted to escape. While the gallery was caught up in their hate filled murmurs about me, I was trying my best not to laugh. There were so many things wrong with that statement, especially the bobby pin part of it because I did not even wear one.

The judge banged the gavel, bringing silence from the gallery. Despite that he considered the prosecution's fairytale true; he wanted more decisive evidence to prove that I was guilty of the crime. The prosecutor was forced to unknowingly play my trump card, to call the first witness up on the stand.

Detective Lockwood quickly made his way to the witness stand. I couldn't tell where he had come from where I was sitting, but I was certain he was in the courtroom. Under one arm, he held a folder, which I was assuming had evidence in it. He glanced at me and secretly gave me a thumbs up with his spare hand. I suppressed my excitement, waiting for the moment he revealed the evidence.

"Will the witness state his name and occupation, please," the judge declared.

"Clive Lockwood. I'm the detective for this case."

"Detective Lockwood, I trust you have the evidence ready?" The prosecutor asked, with a smirk across his face.

"Yes prosecutor. However, if the court doesn't mind, I would like to present the arresting officer's statement first." The detective placed the folder on the wooden support and quickly pulled out a slip of paper.

I looked over at the defence's bench, seeing the lawyer visibly agitated by the interaction between the prosecutor and Detective Lockwood. I wish I could tell him that things would go very differently to what he had expected. After all, only Officer Petrie and I knew which side the detective was on.

"The court accepts it, detective. Now please present the statement."

The detective held the paper in front of him and read out, "'I parked my car near the store at one in the morning, patrolling the area. I was focused on the shop, and the area around it the entire time, despite it was pouring rain at the time. But it stopped half an hour later. Five minutes later, I saw Miss Cykes exit the store from my car. I caught up to her, and she fully cooperated with me. I arrested her on the grounds of breaking and entering and attempting to shoplift.'"

The judge pondered for a short while before announcing, "It sounds very convincing that the accused tried to steal money. Does-"

"Hold it!" The detective's voice boomed throughout the courtroom, silencing the judge. "I'm not finished yet, Your Honor."

"But you just finished your testimony, detective," the judge retorted.

"That wasn't _my testimony_. It was a statement made by the arresting officer to outline the case. And based on my investigation, there's already a contradiction in the statement."

The gallery became abuzz with confusion and intrigue. The judge was forced to bring the gavel down swiftly to hush the people.

"Detective Lockwood, I believe it is the defence's job to point out contradictions in testimonies."

"I understand Your Honour, but any holes in the statement cannot be looked over. Remember, this trial and the case against the defendant was done in less than eight hours and the defendant here is a fourteen year old girl who has her entire life ahead of her. And the only witness we had was the arresting officer. As lead detective, it is my duty to conduct a thorough investigation and find the truth. Please let me point out this contradiction, so we may get closer to the truth."

The judge was deep in thought again. But this time, I felt very nervous. This decision the judge was about to make would determine my guilt or innocence. If Detective Lockwood was given no voice to defend me, it meant I had to rely on the defence attorney that was appointed to me at the last minute. If he was the only person that could defend me, I might as well be guilty.

I felt the arm of Officer Petrie rest over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I think he knew the consequences of the judge's decision if it went against the detective. I was thankful I wasn't the only person nervous for my case.

"This is the court's standing on this request," the judge began, "It is very unusual for the lead detective, the person who represents the investigation for the prosecution, to actively provide evidence against the prosecution's claims. However, considering the small time frame between when the defendant was arrested and now, I believe that mistakes can be made for a case against the defendant to be presented in court. I will allow the lead detective to present the results of his investigation, and if the prosecution cannot find a flaw, then the court will accept the findings."

The gallery went ballistic. The implications of the decision were huge, as it turned the courtroom proceedings upside down. I wasn't complaining about it, except the noise that came from the gallery. At least though, Detective Lockwood was the one responsible of proving my innocence and not the attorney.

I glanced at the attorney, who was completely gobsmacked by the judge's assessment. I felt a little bad for him that he was going to be quite insignificant during the proceedings. Although, he was probably relieved that the pressure wasn't on him anymore. I took a quick look over at the prosecutor, was appeared equally surprised as the lawyer. The judge's decision would've taken him off guard, but it shouldn't stop him from doing everything in his power to make me look guilty.

"Order! Order!" The judge's voice boomed while he slammed the gavel repeatedly. "However, the burden of proof is on you and your investigation, Detective Lockwood. If the results of your investigation does not prove the accused innocent, the court can only assume that she is guilty. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Honour," Detective Lockwood stated, giving a nod to the judge.

"How does the prosecution stand on this?"

"I was lead to believe that the investigation turned up concrete proof of Miss Cykes' guilt. But the prosecution wouldn't mind hearing the detective's investigation, so that I can question the oversights in it!"

"And the defence?"

"The d-defence finds the proceedings... i-interesting. As long as the detective is presenting the truth and helping me defend my client, the defence has no qualms with this arrangement."

"With no objections on both sides, I see no reason to delay hearing the detective's investigation. Detective Lockwood, please tell the court the contradiction you spotted in the arresting officer's statement."

It was a relief that everyone was on board with the altered proceedings. With Detective Lockwood in charge of my defence, I was confident that I was going to be proven innocent. However, this was only the beginning of my trial. I had no idea how it would end, but I was hoping Detective Lockwood found enough evidence to prove me innocent without a doubt.


End file.
